


All That We See or Seem

by SodiumBlue



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Horror, M/M, Suspense, bad language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SodiumBlue/pseuds/SodiumBlue
Summary: An attack on a woman by Spring Heeled Jack results in Freddy's kidnapping. It's up to Jacob and Evie to track Freddy down before it's too late.





	1. In Parting From You Now

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Ubisoft or Assassin's Creed.
> 
> This was a Halloween Oneshot that spiraled out of control into a multi-chapter fic.
> 
> Work and chapter title take from Edgar Allan Poe's 'A Dream Within a Dream'.
> 
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Frederick strolled down the sidewalk, enjoying the brisk breeze despite the smell of smoke and rotten food that permeated the London air. He was on his way to the Police Outpost in Lambeth, and evening was fast approaching. The sun had begun its decline over an hour before, and the threat of fog hung in the air. People and carriages streamed past, returning home for the evening, or, for those on the night shift, heading to work. A patrol of fellow officers walked past, exchanging waves of acknowledgment with Frederick. One of Frederick’s favorite things about being a plainclothes officer was not having to wear the stuffy blue uniform of the Met.

Frederick ducked down an alleyway he was almost certain was a shortcut, enjoying the last rays of sun as he did. A flash of movement against the sun caught Frederick's attention, and he looked up to see a dark mass dropping straight for him. Stumbling back a few steps, Frederick drew his gun from its holster and waited with baited breath. The dark mass landed with barely a noise before Frederick.

“Freddy,” the dark mass straightened and revealed itself to be Jacob Frye, “fancy seeing you here.”

“Jacob?” Frederick questioned, putting his gun back into its holster. “Where did you come from?”

Jacob smirked and pointed up.

Frederick rolled his eyes and glanced in the direction of the entrance to the alley; he didn't need to be seen with a known leader of the Rooks. “Did you need something,” Frederick turned back to face Jacob, who was suddenly standing a lot closer, “or were you just trying to give me a heart attack?”

“A little bit of both,” Jacob answered with a shrug. “Where am I dropping the next bounty?”

Frederick raised an eyebrow, “Miss Frye and I already arranged a drop off point. Is she no longer able to make it?”

Jacob stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, eyes gazing over Frederick’s shoulder. “I was going to be closer so I told Evie I'd take care of it.”

“You’ve collected almost every bounty so far,” Frederick reminded Jacob, “but if you're certain meet me under the train tracks in Lambeth, not far from the asylum, tomorrow afternoon. I'll send word through Clara if anything changes.”

“Freddy,” Jacob’s smile morphed into a lecherous smirk, “under the train tracks? One might think we we were up to something…” his eyes slowly looked Frederick up and down, “...scandalous,” Jacob purred.

A delicious shiver raced down Frederick's spine as he stepped away from Jacob, trying to put a little distance between them. Frederick considered any activity involving Jacob scandalous. Jacob's mere presence was temptation incarnate.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Frederick repeated, determined not to show how flustered he felt.

“I'll be there,” Jacob said, stepping away from Frederick. Jacob raised an arm above his head, and with a pop and a click, rope launched his way up the side of the building.

Once Jacob was gone Frederick sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment. Jacob’s presence always left Frederick feeling dizzy and out of sorts, as though he forgot how to breath when Jacob was around and only remembered once Jacob was gone. Feeling a little less flustered, Frederick took another deep breath and opened his eyes. He continued down the alley to the main road, and from there to the Lambeth Police Outpost.

 

 

 

The Lambeth Police Outpost was a little one room building with two windows, a door, and a fireplace. Two desks and a bookshelf had been squeezed into the little room, leaving just enough space for a few chairs in front of the fireplace, and a small opening between the desks only one officer at a time could squeeze through.

Frederick arrived, according to his pocket watch, only a few minutes past the time he was supposed to be there, which wasn't too bad all things considered. The earlier threat of fog had turned into a promise as thick tendrils of fog were already winding their way through the city. Frederick figured he was in for a dull shift.

“Ah, Sergeant Abberline,” Officer Williams greeted from behind a desk seeing Frederick walk through the door. “The Commissioner mentioned sending someone over to stand in for Officer Taylors.”

“That would be me,” Frederick agreed. “They asked around at the Yard and I volunteered. Officer Taylors has enough to worry about with his wife so ill.”

Officer Williams nodded. “I agree. I'm so glad whatever this sickness is seems to have passed my Martha by. What about you Sergent? Anyone for you to worry yourself about?”

Frederick walked over to the other desk and took off his coat, draping it across the back of the chair before responding. “No,” he answered at length, taking a seat. “My first wife died from tuberculosis, and I haven't remarried.”

“I'm sorry,” Officer Williams propped an elbow on his desk. “But no one has caught your eye then? No bird you can't get off your mind?”

Frederick thought about piercing brown eyes, a far too tempting smirk, and a heart of gold beating beneath a rough and tough exterior. Frederick shook his head. “No,” he answered, “a bird hasn't caught my eye.”

Officer Williams sat back in his seat. “Give it time.”

Frederick only nodded.

Hours passed with little excitement, but Frederick knew better than to wish for something to happen. As a police officer, a boring shift was a good shift. A quick glance at his pocketwatch showed half till midnight and Frederick sighed. His shift was almost over, thank goodness. Half an hour more and he’d be able to return home, where he could sleep the rest of night before reporting to the Yard in the morning.

“Police,” a woman cried, bursting through the front door, tears streaming down her face, “I've been attacked.” Frederick scrambled to his feet, and then was forced to wait while Officer Williams squeezed himself through the gap in the desks first. Officer Williams led the crying woman to a chair by the fireplace while Frederick walked over to the still open front door. He stood in the open doorway and peered out into the thick fog, seeing nothing but a carriage in front of the Outpost and no one but a young woman atop the carriage holding the reigns. Taking one last look around Frederick ducked back inside and closed the door behind him.

“Ma’am,” Officer Williams was asking the woman, “what is your name?”

The young woman seated before the fire was fair of hair and skin, short in stature, and wearing a loose dress more appropriate for the home than for a Police Outpost. Fresh tears shone in the light from the fire and Frederick noticed long angry scratches across her neck that disappeared beneath the shoulder of her dress. This woman had been attacked by something with claws.

“My name is Jane Alsop,” the young woman answered.

“Who attacked you, Miss Alsop?” Officer Williams asked, snatching a paper and pencil from his desk.

“I think it was Spring Heeled Jack,” the woman whispered, as though saying the name would evoke the wrath of the thing itself.

“Spring Heeled Jack?” Thomas scoffed, “and why would you think that?”

“Why don't you tell us your story, Miss Alsop,” Frederick interrupted, leaning back against the closed door behind him, arms crossed across his chest.

Miss Alsop nodded, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “I was getting ready for bed when there was a knock at the door. I-I answered it thinking it was a neighbor in distress, especially so late in the evening. When I opened it, there was a man on the doorstep holding a bullseye lantern, similar to the ones you police officers use. I couldn't see who the man holding the lantern was, but he said he was a p-police officer. He asked me to bring a candle and follow him, as they believed they had caught Spring Heeled Jack. I was thrilled! Finally this monster had been caught. I took a candle off the front table and f-followed the police officer down the road. Only, once we were a distance from my home, the man turned and….and…..and… attacked me.” A shuddering sob escaped Miss Alsop; her entire body trembled as a fresh wave of tears overtook her young face.

“You don't have to continue,” Frederick offered, feeling his heart break for this young woman.

Miss Alsop shook her head. “You,” she stumbled over her words, “y-you,” she took another shuddering breath, “you need to know.” She took a few deep breaths and continued. “This...this thing had sharp metal claws that ripped and tore at my neck and dress. I-I fought back and managed to escape. I ran back toward my home but the creature caught me on the s-steps of my own house. I-I screamed as he tore and ripped away at my clothing. My screams brought my sister down to see what was happening and that's when the c-creature ran. I told my sister what I am telling you, a-and she's the one who decided I needed to report it straight away.”

Officer Williams dropped the pencil he was holding.

“Have you seen a doctor” Frederick asked, eyeing what he could see of the scratches on the woman's neck.

Miss Alsop shook her head. “I have not. I do not b-believe any of the scratches are terribly deep.”

“I would still recommend you have them looked at,” Frederick said. “Is that your sister outside?”

Jane nodded, “Yes, my sister is outside, but she a-asked not to come in.”

“Miss Alsop,” Officer Williams spoke, his tone softer after hearing the woman's story, “I’m afraid we need to speak with all witnesses involved.”

“I u-u-understand, sir,” tears welled in Miss Alsop’s eyes, “but could I request not tonight?”

Officer Williams opened his mouth to reply but Frederick interrupted, “Of course, Miss Alsop.” The poor woman had been through a traumatic experience, and the last thing she wanted to do was relive it again. She would be doing plenty of that once the police began asking questions in the morning. Frederick shot a quick glance at his pocketwatch. “My shift ends in twenty minutes, Miss Alsop, why don't I escort you and your sister home, and in the morning police will come to further discuss the situation.”

Miss Alsop visibly relaxed. “Thank you, Officer, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Your statement has been recorded,” Frederick shot Officer Williams a hard look, as the paper in his hand was still blank, then turned back to Miss Alsop. “Please return to your carriage, I will be along shortly.”

Miss Alsop gave a weak smile and left the room, closing the door gently behind her. Thankfully Officer Williams waited until she was gone to speak.

“Do you believe her? Her story of being attacked by Spring Heeled Jack?” Officer Williams asked, standing before the fire.

“I believe she was attacked by something,” Frederick answered, putting on his coat and hat, “I doubt she did those scratches to herself. The debate of what she was attacked by will keep until morning.”

Officer Williams nodded and returned to his desk.

Frederick left the Outpost, and found Miss Alsop standing beside the carriage Frederick had seen earlier.

“Officer, this is my sister, Miss Sally Alsop,” Miss Jane Alsop motioned to the woman holding the reigns.

“Sergeant Abberline,” Frederick introduced himself, tipping his hat to Miss Sally Alsop. “While I don't mean to be intrusive, would either of you ladies mind if I took the open front seat?”

Both Miss Jane and Miss Sally Alsop shook their heads.

“Sally can keep the reins,” Miss Jane Alsop said, “I have no qualms with sitting in the back.”

Frederick offered Miss Jane Alsop a hand while she climbed into the carriage, and waited for the young woman to be settled before closing the carriage door. Frederick pulled himself into the open front seat and nodded to Miss Sally Alsop, who clicked her tongue and flicked the reigns to get the horse moving.

The drive was quiet and the horse slow, thanks to the thick fog encompassing the streets. The fog had left the streets seemingly abandoned, with no movement or sound besides their own carriage.

“I don't like this,” Miss Sally Alsop muttered.

Frederick didn't respond, knowing any reassurances would be pointless.

A flicker of movement up ahead caught Frederick's attention. Eyes narrowed Frederick leaned forward across the front bar separating the carriage from the horse, wanting a closer look. The dark shadow moved again, and Frederick noticed it seemed to be moving above the street, as if jumping from street lamp to street lamp. Frederick’s first thought was one of the Frye twins, either Jacob or Evie moving above the streets as they liked to do. The shadow moved closer, and Frederick could hear through the fog a repeated snapping sound, like the snapping of fabric being pulled taut. Coats didn't snap, they were too heavy to do so, which meant the shadow moving towards them wasn't a Frye twin.

“Miss Alsop,” Frederick whispered, “there is something suspicious making its way toward us. I want you to slow down a little more so I can jump off, and then I want you to continue home as fast as you safely can. Lock all the doors, and do not open them for anybody.”

Miss Sally Alsop gave Frederick a look of pure fear.

“Whatever this is will not follow you home. It will be too busy with me,” Frederick reassured her. “Slow down just enough for me to jump off.”

For a few moments Frederick didn't think she would. Miss Sally Alsop stared at him, eyes wide with fright, while Frederick’s gaze moved back and forth between her and the shadow moving in strange leaps and bounds ever closer.

“Okay,” Miss Sally Alsop said, tugging the horse’s reins and bringing the horse to a slower walk.

Frederick jumped from the carriage and landed on his feet, staggering sideways a few steps as his body adjusted to no longer being in motion. Regaining his balance Frederick turned to the mysterious shadow, who was still coming towards them. Frederick pulled his gun from its holster and planted his feet. He raised the gun and took aim carefully, chances were after the first shot he wouldn't have the chance for a second one. Frederick fired.

The crack of the gunshot ripped through the silence of the street, leaving a faint ringing in Frederick's ear. He heard one of the Alsop girls scream as the horse pulling their carriage, spooked by the loud noise, whinnied and raced away. Frederick had a moment to hope Miss Sally Alsop could regain control of the horse before the shadow figure perched atop the lamp over Frederick’s head. He fired again. The shadow dropped from the lamp and vanished.

Frederick froze. Even the Frye twins couldn't disappear before your very eyes. Frederick gripped his gun tighter, eyes moving across the fog blinded scene, looking for any clues as to where the shadow figure could have gone. The hair on the back of Frederick’s neck stood on end and Frederick whirled around, coming face to face with a demon. The face was red with black gouges down the side, as though someone had taken a rusty knife to the demon’s face. Its eyes were red, and glowed as though the fires of Hell itself danced within them. The demon smiled, and blue flames flew from its mouth, hitting Frederick directly in the face.

“Fuck,” Frederick cursed, staggering away from the demon. Blue lights flashed behind Frederick’s closed eyes while a searing heat burned his face. He felt the smooth metal of his gun slip from his fingers, and knew he could do nothing to catch it. Something powerful rammed him hard in the stomach, knocking Frederick clear off his feet. His head slammed into the cobblestone street and Frederick knew no more.


	2. Thus Much Let Me Avow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What begins as an normal day quickly turns into Jacob's worst nightmare.

 

Chapter 2: Thus Much Let Me Avow

 

 

Jacob adjusted his hood as he crouched behind a smokestack, making sure to keep the afternoon sun behind him. He tucked his hat into his coat while he peeked around the smokestack, observing the sniper in front of him walking back and forth across the roof. People were predictable, Jacob knew, and this sniper proved no different. After watching for only a few moments Jacob could discern a specific path the woman followed. At the end of her route the sniper would turn, putting her back to Jacob, and that was all Jacob needed. The sniper turned and Jacob’s pulse spiked as he moved silently out from behind the smokestack and stalked the woman across the roof. He followed the sniper until she reached the other side of the roof and was well out of sight of any potential witnesses. A quick arm around her throat cut off her air and a hand across her mouth prevented her from screaming. Jacob held the woman until she slumped, her dead weight straining Jacob’s arms. Jacob gently lowered her to the roof, holding her steady to prevent her body from sliding off. Once he was certain she wouldn’t drop to her death he shot a quick look around, then threw himself over the side of the building. He descended quickly, dropping handhold to handhold, not wanting to be caught on his way down. He landed with a barely audible ‘thump’ on the dirt and crouched behind a few empty crates, the wood rough against his fingers as he watched eagerly around the corner for his bounty.

This bounty was a big man, burly and intimidating. Jacob watched from around the crates as his bounty stopped to speak with one of the Blighters guarding the perimeter and fought back his huff of annoyance. He hated waiting for victims to finish conversations, it was so tedious.

Jacob pulled his hood from his head, sliding his top hat back on in its place. Walking with a kidnapped victim was always less conspicuous with a top hat on than with a hood. The bounty finished his discussion and continued walking down a small dirt path that passed right in front of Jacob’s hiding spot. Jacob flicked his hidden blade out in anticipation. Once the bounty was close enough, Jacob sprung.  

Jumping from behind the crates, Jacob slammed his fist into the bounty’s stomach. While the bounty was hunched over in pain Jacob wrenched the bounty’s arm around until it was pressed tightly against the bounty’s back. The hidden blade dug into the bounty’s back even though the bounty’s clothing dulled the prick of the sharp pointed blade.

“What?” The bounty mumbled, straightening to find himself in Jacob’s firm hold. “What is this?”

“Stay quiet,” Jacob growled, “and walk.”

Jacob forced the bounty forward, moving them at a slow pace as to not draw attention.

“What is this?” The man asked, frantically looking around, “I didn't do anything.”

“That's not for me to decide,” Jacob growled, tightening his grip on the bounty’s arm, “keep walking.”

“HEL-” the bounty tried to yell but Jacob dug the blade in, piercing through coat and shirt so the blade touched bare skin. The cry for help abruptly shifted into a choked off whine.

“Don't try that again,” Jacob warned, his voice low and threatening.

A pre-arranged empty carriage sat waiting and Jacob steered the bounty over to it. Throwing the door open Jacob shoved the bounty inside. Stepping back Jacob made sure the hidden blade gleamed threateningly, even in the shadow of the open carriage door. “Try to escape and I’ll kill you,” Jacob hissed to the bounty’s fear paled face. The bounty nodded vigorously, beads of sweat dripping down his terrified visage. Jacob slammed the carriage door shut then jumped atop the perch and grabbed the reins. Time to meet Freddy.

  


Jacob pulled up to the drop off point and, much to his confusion, found it empty. There was no sign of Freddy, nor any sign of the Black Maria Freddy always brought with him when arresting bounties.

“What the hell…” Jacob muttered to himself, pulling the carriage to a stop. He was under the train flyover and could see the tower of Lambeth Asylum gleaming in the distance, so he knew he was in the right spot, but where was Freddy?

Jacob heard the click of the latch from the carriage door behind him and was on the ground pointing his gun into the bounty’s face before the carriage door could swing fully open. The bounty looked up, saw the barrel of Jacob’s gun, and froze.

“Good,” Jacob growled, gun pointing at the bounty’s head, “you just saved me the trouble of getting you out.”

Jacob grabbed the bounty’s coat and hauled him from the carriage, keeping the gun pointed at the bounty’s face all the while. Once the bounty was out of the carriage Jacob wrenched the bounty’s arm around again, letting the hidden blade emerge to be a deadly presence. Jacob tucked his now unneeded gun back into its holster.

Jacob glanced around again. Where was Freddy?

“This is it, isn't it?” The bounty’s voice trembled as he gave one last desperate yank in an attempt to free himself from Jacob’s hold. “You brought me here to kill me, didn’t you.”

Jacob rolled his eyes, already finished putting up with the man's whining. “You’re not that lucky,” Jacob hissed. Throwing his free arm around the bounty’s neck, Jacob squeezed until the other man’s airways constricted, preventing the bounty from breathing.  A few moments later the bounty slumped in Jacob’s hold, body going slack. Jacob gave an exasperated huff and let the man drop gently to the ground unharmed. Freddy never said the bounties had to be conscious.

Straightening, Jacob looked around again. Still no Freddy. Now Jacob was growing concerned. It wasn’t like Freddy to miss out on an engagement, especially one Freddy himself had arranged. Outside of his growing concern, Jacob also felt dejected. Bounty exchanges were one of the few excuses Jacob had to spend time with Freddy anymore, and with the number of bounties dwindling, Jacob would soon have to find new excuses for seeking Freddy out. After all, not seeing Freddy wasn’t an option, not for Jacob.  Jacob’s heart had been involved for a while now, and he longed for Freddy the same way he longed for a pint at the end of a hard day: desperate to the point of a physical ache.

When Jacob had first met Sergeant Frederick Abberline, Jacob had tolerated the strange man who seemed to enjoy dressing as a lady in his spare time. But when working closely with Freddy to catch Twopenny robbing the bank Jacob came to realize Freddy was more than a simple bobbie working for the Met; Freddy was a good man with a brilliant mind, and someone Jacob was lucky enough to call friend.

After that Jacob grew to cherish Freddy’s friendship while simultaneously ignoring his continuously maturing infatuation for the exasperating man. Then the disaster named Maxwell Roth imploded. After spending time with Roth, and growing to care for the man more than Jacob would ever admit to himself, seeing the full range of Roth’s madness had been staggering. Suddenly Jacob didn’t know what to think or who to trust. Returning to the train, only to be accosted by Evie, was more than Jacob could bare. The ensuing argument threatened to leave Jacob without a sense of self and without his sister, his twin.

Jacob was numb while stealing the Gladstone’s invitations to the Queen’s party. Pain, anger, betrayal, and grief tangled together inside him so tightly he just wanted to shut his emotions off. The only reason he even cared anymore was because London was his responsibility and Sterrick needed to be destroyed. After learning, per stolen invitations, no weapons were allowed inside the party, Jacob could only think of one person who would know what to do. At a time when Jacob couldn't trust himself, or Evie, Jacob had known he could trust Freddy. And Freddy agreed to help, no questions asked. Even going so far as to tease Jacob about the infiltration being too easy. Jacob remembered that moment. He remembered standing in front of Freddy, who was dressed as a dirty street cleaner, and realizing this man was all Jacob wanted. Jacob didn’t want someone to feed his wild ambitions, or assist him in his half concocted schemes. Jacob wanted someone he could trust; someone who would always have his back no matter what. Jacob wanted Freddy.

He could never tell Freddy that, of course.

The sound of an approaching horse caught Jacob’s attention, and he turned hopefully only to see a plain carriage roll past with a driver he didn’t recognize. Still no Freddy. Jacob watched the carriage continue down the road and wondered if maybe Freddy had sent notice of the time or place changing. Jacob hadn’t returned to the train hideout since he’d left this morning, so it was possible. He should probably go check. Jacob climbed onto the perch of the carriage and took the reins. Maybe Evie would know what happened.

  


Jacob crouched, balanced on the edge of the street flyover, and watched as the train hideout come speeding towards him. He waited for the engine and coal car to pass beneath him then jumped. There was always a moment, as he hung suspended in the air after a jump, when he worried he would miss his target completely. He landed with an audible ‘oomph’ on the roof, crouching low to keep his balance and swung himself down into the dining coach, where he found Evie reading the evening paper in the little booth at the far end of the coach. Jacob was surprised to see she was the only one there; usually the dining coach was full of Rooks passing through and stopping for a quick bite or a drink. Food and drink on the train were free for any Rook, because for a lot of the Rooks it was the only access to good food they had.

“Have you heard from Clara or Freddy?” Jacob asked without preamble, sliding into the seat across from Evie, the small dinning table between them.

Evie looked up from the paper. “I haven't heard from either Clara nor Sergeant Abberline. Did you not meet Sergeant Abberline at the drop off point today?”

“I was there, but he wasn’t,” Jacob said, lounging in his seat while his fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against the table.

Evie put her newspaper on the table and turned it so Jacob could read the headline, “This could be why,” she said, tapping the paper.

Jacob leaned closer and read:

‘ **SPRING HEELED JACK STRIKES AGAIN! SCOTLAND YARD INVESTIGATING.’**

“Spring Heeled Jack struck again last night,” Evie said after giving Jacob a moment to read the headline, “could be Sergeant Abberline has been caught up in the investigation and couldn’t get away. What did you do with the bounty?”

Jacob didn't lookup from scanning the article, “Left him unconscious on the ground at the drop off point.”

“Jacob,” Evie sighed, rolling her eyes.

“I couldn't exactly bring him with me,” Jacob pointed out.

Evie shrugged, conceding his point.

“It’s been a few months since Spring Heeled Jacob was last reported,” Evie said after a few moments, returning to the topic at hand, “I think it could be worth investigating.”

Jacob looked up at his sister, “We’ve tried to catch him before, Evie. He managed to escape us twice, if you remember.”

“I remember,” Evie answered, “but I still think it's worth investigating. Do you think Mr. Dickens would know anything about this newest attack?”

“Charlie?” Jacob blinked at his sister, “I doubt he knows anymore than the bobbies do at this point.”

“Let’s go find out,” Evie slid from her seat and looked at Jacob expectantly, “are you coming?”

“Sure,” Jacob agreed, standing as well, “you can talk ghost stories with Charlie while I get drunk. He can usually be found at pubs in The Strand.”

  


They found Charles Dickens at the ‘Gallant Commodore’, a pub Jacob avoided on principle because not only was the name stuffy, but blue bottles tended to frequent it. The pub was crowded and loud, not an unusual occurrence as evening was fast approaching. Smoke from cigars hung low in the air, twisting around the heads of patrons and spreading the smell of tobacco all around. As he and Evie walked in Jacob grew uneasy as he noticed a distinct lack of bobbies.

“Ah, Mr. Frye, and Miss Frye what a pleasant surprise,” Charlie Dickens greeted them as Jacob and Evie joined him at his table. “Please, have a drink. I insist.”

“Don't mind if I do,” Jacob agreed, motioning to the barkeep for two drinks.

The barkeep appeared from the rolling cigar smoke and plopped two tankards on the table; Jacob kept one and slid the other to Evie. Women in pubs always drew attention, but they drew significantly less attention when they were drinking. Usually Jacob's presence was enough to keep the unsavory comments at bay, but as much as Evie liked to heckle him about initiating pub brawls, she had started quite a few of her own by kneeing men propositioning her in the groin.

“What can you tell us about the most recent Spring Heeled Jack report?” Evie asked Charlie as she wrapped a hand around her tankard.

Charlie took a swig of his drink before answering. “Not much, I'm afraid. I am of course aware there was an attack, and that someone was either taken or killed during said attack, but a body hasn't been found that I know of.”

“Wait,” Jacob interrupted, lowering his lifted tankard back to the table, “someone was killed?”

Charlie frowned. “Unfortunately my information is incomplete at best; I only know what rumors and newspapers have said thus far. Whispered rumors are saying Spring Heeled Jack kidnapped someone who dared to fight back, and then killed them. Rumor is the Met’s looking for a body.”

“Could there be any truth to it?” Evie asked, leaning forward across the table as a group of men in the corner started shouting.

Charlie took a long pull from his tankard before answering. “I don't put much stock in rumors, Miss Frye, but unfortunately people have died from Spring Heeled Jack’s attacks in the past, which was a reason I sent the two of you after him.”

“We couldn't catch him,” Evie mumbled, staring down into her full tankard, “he escaped every time we got close.”

“We must have chased him halfway across the city,” Jacob agreed sullenly.

“And it seems he is not done bringing terror to London,” Charlie finished his drink and motioned to the barkeep for another one. “I wish I could tell you more, my friends. My recommendation is to talk with your police contact. They may be able to tell you more than I.”

“We have reason to believe our police contact is preoccupied,” Evie said. “Would anyone at the Yard be able to tell us anything?”

Jacob downed the rest of his drink in a few long swallows, already knowing what Evie was thinking.

“I doubt they’re telling everything they know to anyone who asks,” Charlie answered. “Ah, thank you,” he said as the barkeep put a fresh tankard on the table.

“Don't worry,” Jacob smirked, thunking his now empty tankard to the table, “we won't have to ask.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Dickens,” Evie said graciously as she rose from her chair, Jacob followed her lead and stood as well.

“Not at all, Miss Frye. I hope you find what you're looking for.”

“We will,” Jacob muttered as he and Evie left the smoky pub for the chilled London streets. “Scotland Yard?” Jacob asked once they were outside the pub. Evie nodded and together they rope launched their way to the nearest roof and free ran for Scotland Yard.

 

 

The Yard was a hub of activity when the twins arrived. They perched on the edge of the roof opposite the Yard, hoods on, and watched as groups of men in blue and grey uniforms came and went in unified groups. A group of bobbies would enter the building and a few minutes later would leave as another group of bobbies arrived in Black Marias and repeated the process.

“Organized search parties,” Evie spoke quietly, “they’re looking for someone.”

“Or they’re looking for a body,” Jacob added, remembering Charlie saying the victim might already be dead.

Aware of the massive officer presence below them, Jacob and Evie went the long way around rather than rope launching their way across the street. They paused for a moment crouched atop Scotland Yard, waiting to see if their presence had sounded an alarm. After a few moments of panic free silence they scaled down the wall to the nearest open window to see what they could learn. Jacob clung to window’s edge, while Evie hung precariously onto the bottom, fingertips barely visible over the top of the windows ledge.

“- you found him?” A woman's voice was insisting, sounding on the verge of hysterics.

“Miss Alsop,” a man's stern voice replied, “we are doing all we can.”

“Then it isn't enough,” the woman argued.

“Ma’am, every officer who could be spared is out searching. He hasn’t even been missing for twenty-four hours. We will find him.”

“And what is this rumor about searching for a dead body?” Another woman's voice joined the argument.

“We have no evidence we’re searching for a body,” the man replied, his voice taking on the edge of a commander used to being obeyed. “Now, Miss Alsop, Miss Alsop, I'll have to ask you to leave. We have a lot of London left to cover.”

“Commissioner, you haven't answered any of our questions,” the second woman's voice insisted. “You can't just ask us to leave without telling us anything.”

“I'm afraid I must,” the man said, leaving no room for argument. “You may either leave on your own or I can have an officer escort you out.”

“We can see ourselves out,” the first woman said tightly.

Jacob could see Evie peering up at him, and with a nod of acknowledgement both twins pulled themselves back atop Scotland Yard.

“Our best chance for information is those two women,” Evie said as she moved across the roof quietly and perched on the opposite edge, looking down into the street. “We should see what they know.”

Jacob joined her at the edge and together they watched as the two women exited Scotland Yard and climbed atop the perch of an empty carriage by the curb. One of the women took the reins herself and the women drove away. Jacob and Evie waited for the carriage to gain a little distance, wouldn’t do to be caught stalking a carriage as it left the Yard, and then set off after it. They followed the carriage out of the Strand and into Westminster before making their move.

Jacob dropped from the roof, descending quickly from handhold to window ledge to a shop awning before dropping to the ground. Once on the ground Jacob ran into the street and put himself directly in front of the carriage, forcing the woman driving to either stop, or run him over.

“What do you want?” The woman holding the reins called, slowing the horse as the carriage approached. “I already talked to journalists and I refuse to speak with anymore.”

“We’re not journalists, ma’am,” Jacob called.

“Then who are you?”

“We work with the police,” Jacob answered, which was technically true. They worked with Freddy and Freddy was the police.

“You do?” The second woman questioned, looking skeptical.

Evie appeared from around the side of the carriage and joined Jacob in blocking the horse’s path. “We do,” she answered. “We were assigned the case this afternoon, but Scotland Yard is overwhelmed currently. I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you what happened.”

The two women on the carriage exchanged a look Jacob couldn’t decipher. “Alright,” the one not holding the reins agreed, “if it will help find him we'll tell you.”

“Find who?” Evie asked.

“Sergeant Abberline,” the woman said.

Jacob’s world shattered. Panic and fear and worry ripped through his chest, stealing all the breath from his lungs, leaving him staggering to stay upright. Nausea swirled in his stomach and his throat burned as bile threatened to rise. Freddy was the one missing. Freddy was the one the Met was looking for. Oh God, Freddy was the body the police were trying to find. “Where?” Jacob mumbled, thoughts swimming. “Where?” He shouted when no answer was forthcoming, interrupting whatever Evie had been saying.

“I'm sorry?” Asked the woman holding the reins.

“Jacob,” Evie reprimanded, “what has gotten into you?”

“Can you take me to where he disappeared?” Jacob demanded, his voice was desperate as all his hopes were laid on the two nervous looking women in front of him.

The two women exchanged a look before the one holding the reins nodded. “We can take you to where we last saw him,” she answered.

“Thank you,” Evie said gratefully. She walked over to the door of the carriage and climbed in, leaving the door open behind her for Jacob. Jacob closed the door behind his sister without getting in. “Jacob?” Evie called, poking her head out curiously. Jacob shook his head and climbed atop the roof of the carriage, spread his feet and bent his knees. He needed something distracting to focus on to keep himself from throwing up, and steadying himself atop a moving carriage took a decent amount of focus.

“I’ll be fine here,” Jacob told the women watching him wide eyed, “just don’t take a turn too fast.”

The woman holding the reins nodded and faced forward. She clicked her tongue and the horse began moving down the road. “My name is Sally Alsop,” the woman holding the reins called back to Jacob and Evie, “this is my sister Jane Alsop.” The second woman looked back at Jacob and smiled.

“Jacob Frye.”

“Evie Frye,” Evie called from the carriage.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Jane smiled again. “Are you friends of Sergeant Abberline?”

“Yes,” Jacob said, bending his knees as Sally steered the carriage around a corner. “How do you know Sergeant Abberline?”

Jane’s smile shriveled. “He escorted us home last night after he found out I’d been attacked. He didn’t want us traveling home by ourselves.”

Jacob felt weak amusement rise up, of course Freddy would escort these two women home. “That sounds exactly like Sergeant Abberline.”

“Miss Alsop,” Evie called from the carriage, “would you mind telling us what happened?”

“I was attacked, Miss Frye,” Jane answered with the long suffering tone of someone who has repeated the same story too many times, “by someone I believe to be Spring Heeled Jack. My sister convinced me to go to the police that same evening.  Sergeant Abberline was very polite and after taking my statement he offered to escort myself and my sister home…” Jane trailed off and looked at her sister. “After that I was in the carriage while Sally drove.”

“We were a few streets away from the Lambeth Police Outpost,” Sally continued, slowing the carriage as they approached an intersection, “when Sergeant Abberline saw something through the fog. I don’t know if you remember last night, but the fog was thick for a majority of the night.”

“I remember,” Jacob said. He remembered watching out the train window and marveling over how he couldn’t see anything beyond his own reflection the fog had been so thick.

“Sergeant Abberline saw something,” Sally steered them across the Thames toward Lambeth, “and asked me to slow the horse. He told me he would distract whatever was coming toward us while I raced us home as fast as I could.”

“How did Sergeant Abberline know the approaching person was an enemy?” Evie called.

“It was moving above the street in a way I have never seen before. As if it was bouncing from streetlamp to streetlamp,” Sally said. “I slowed the horse and Sergeant Abberline jumped off. He shot at the shadow and our poor horse was so spooked by the gunshot she took off running. I struggled to regain control of her and once I did I immediately turned around. I may not be much help, but I wasn’t letting Sergeant Abberline face whatever that was alone. We returned to where Sergeant Abberline had been, but he was gone. We searched the area and found nothing but a sleek gun lying on the ground.”

“There were no signs of a struggle?” Jacob asked, unable to conceive a scenario where Freddy was attacked and didn’t fight back.

“Two shots were fired,” Sally said, “but after that we were too far away to know much else. We immediately returned to the Lambeth Police Outpost and told the officer there what happened. After that we were sent home and told to let the police do their jobs.”

“A few officers visited us early this morning to hear our statements of the first attack, as well as the attack when we were with Sergeant Abberline,” Jane said, “but none of them would tell us anything, so we followed them back to Scotland Yard. Once again no one at the Yard would tell us anything, so we lingered outside the open windows to see what we could learn. We found out none of the police had truly been concerned until Sergeant Abberline didn't show up for work this morning. Then they decided we may be worth listening to after all and sent officers to our house to speak with us.”

“We returned to Scotland Yard again this evening,” Jane continued, “and demanded answers. I have every reason to believe Sergeant Abberline saved our lives and I wanted to be sure he was found. We were directed in to speak with the Commissioner, but he only told us they were doing all they could and sent us away. We were one our way home when you found us.”

“Fortuitous for us then,” Evie called.

“Indeed,” Jacob agreed absently. Freddy had put himself in danger to save these women, which was just like Freddy; always thinking of others first.

Sally pulled the carriage to the side of the road, bringing the horse to a stop. “Right here is where we lost him,” she and Jane climbed from the carriage while Jacob jumped from the roof and Evie clambered out of the back. Sally and Jane led Jacob and Evie across the street and pointed to a spot by the curb. “This is where we found the gun,” Sally said, “other than that I have no more to tell you, I’m sorry.”

“Have the police found anything?” Evie asked, bending down to inspect where the gun was supposedly found. Jacob turned back to inspect the street and slowly began walking, eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary.

“No,” Jacob heard Jane answer, “I know of only police one team coming out here, but other than that I am clueless.”

Jacob clenched his teeth as he scanned the street, looking for any signs or clues as to what could have happened. There had to be something. There was no way Freddy disappeared without a trace. Jacob caught sight of a dark stain and squeezed his eyes shut as his heart plummeted into his stomach. He felt like we was going to be sick again.

A large dried, dark, rust colored puddle spread across the cobblestones opposite where the gun was supposedly found, and Jacob recognized it immediately for what it was.

“Evie,” Jacob called, “come here.” He heard the clack of Evie’s boots against the cobblestones but didn’t dare look away from the stain coating the road. “Look,” he said once Evie had appeared beside him. Evie’s sharp intake of breath told him she recognized it for what it was too.

“Blood,” Evie muttered, crouching down to get a closer look. “The real question is whether it’s Sergent Abberline’s or Spring Heeled Jack’s.”

“Sergeant Abberline did shoot twice,” Jane reminded them. “It could easily be the demon’s.”

“No,” Evie shook her head, moving away from the blood. Jacob tried to watch, he really did, but no matter how hard he fought it his eyes continued being drawn back to the pool of blood he knew was Freddy’s. Freddy had been kidnapped, Jacob refused to believe Freddy was dead, and had been bleeding while it happened.

“You described Jack as moving above the street,” Evie was saying, “as if jumping lamppost to lamppost. If that were the case, and either one of Sergeant Abberline’s shots hit their mark, there would be blood right around here.”

Jacob glanced over to see Evie examining the bottom of a light post, but Jacob’s eyes were drawn back to the blood stain. This whole situation was becoming something from a horrible nightmare.

“Miss Frye, Mr. Frye,” Sally’s insistent voice called from behind Jacob. Jacob turned around and saw Sally crouching next to something only a few steps from where Jacob stood, her hand outstretched as if to touch, but not quite making contact.

Jacob walked over to join her and saw what she was kneeling beside. A thin dark trail marked the ground, some kind of dried liquid too thin to be blood. Surrounding the dried mark were other little dried drops, all together forming an unusual splatter pattern. Something thinner than blood had been dropped, or thrown, or spit to make these kinds of markings.

“What in the world,” Evie muttered, dropping beside Sally to look at the dried liquid. Evie looked up at Jacob a moment later and Jacob shook his head at her unasked question. He had no idea what it could be either.

Sally gave a frustrated huff and pushed herself to her feet. “We finally have a clue but none of us can decipher it.”

“Could it could be some type of chemical?” Jane asked, peering down at the strange dried mark from her spot beside Sally.

Excitement bubbled through Jacob as he remembered how Charles Darwin had recognized the chemicals in the Sterrick Soothing Syrup not so long ago. “We have friends who would know,” he said.

“We’ve gotten Aleck into enough trouble,” Evie interjected, hands on her hips, “we’re not bringing him into this.”

“I was thinking Darwin,” Jacob replied, then turned to face Sally and Jane. “Mind if I borrow your carriage?”

“Not at all,” Jane answered.

Jacob jumped onto the carriage perch and flicked the reins to get the horse moving. He would check The Strand first. While he may not know how to locate Charles Darwin, Charles Dickens just might.

 

 

Jacob checked the ‘Gallant Commodore’ first. Luckily, sitting at the same table he and Evie had joined earlier this evening was Charles Dickens, and sitting with Charlie was the other Charlie.

“Charlie,” Jacob called walking up to the table.

“Ah, Mr. Frye,” Dickens greeted, “did you find what you were looking for?”

Jacob put his hands on the table, leaning across it to speak with Darwin, “I need your help.”

Jacob must have looked as wrecked as he felt since Darwin and Dickens both put down their drinks and stood up, chairs scraping across the wooden floor.

“Of course,” Darwin said, “lead the way.”

Jacob led them out to the Alsop carriage, where both Charlies climbed into the back.

“What is going on, Jacob?” Darwin called as Jacob pulled away from the curb.

“A friend of mine is missing, and one of the only clues we’ve found so far is a dried liquid splatter. I was hoping you could tell us what it is.”

“I shall do my best,” Darwin answered.

“Does this have anything to do with the recent Spring Heeled Jack attack?” Dickens asked.

“Yes,” Jacob said, weaving the Alsop carriage around all the other carriages who were moving too slow, “we investigated the Yard and met two women who were with Freddy when he was attacked.”

“Freddy?” Darwin asked.

“Sergeant Frederick Abberline,” Jacob heard Dickens answer. “Sergeant Abberline was attacked?” Dickens called and Jacob assumed the question was for him.

“Yes,” Jacob answered, his chest tightening at the reminder.

Jacob steered the horse down the road, giving a weak chuckle when he saw Evie, Sally, and Jane sitting on the curb, all three of them munching on apples.

“Where did you find apples?” Jacob asked, pulling the horse to a stop.

“There are a few market stands a couple blocks from here,” Evie answered, tossing her apple core over her shoulder, “Jane was kind enough to fetch us something to eat.” Evie tossed Jacob an apple, but Jacob tossed it back, shaking his head. The last thing he wanted to do right now was eat.

“It is getting late,” Darwin agreed climbing from the back of the carriage.

“The sunset is but the sun kissing the night awake,” Dickens added, climbing out behind Darwin.

Jacob couldn't help smiling at the horrendous line. “Please tell me you aren't putting that in one of your books?”

“Not every sentence is book worthy, Mr. Frye,” Dickens smiled.

“Where is this mysterious dried substance?” Darwin asked.

“Over here,” Jacob led Darwin to the dried marks on the cobblestone. Evie pulled herself off the curb and joined Jacob in watching Darwin kneel down to get a closer look.

“You’re not with the Met,” Jane asked, staring in wide eyed awe as Charles Dickens and Charles Darwin stared down at the dark mark on the street, “are you?”

“Afraid not,” Jacob shook his head. “Miss Alsop, Miss Alsop, meet Charles Dickens and Charles Darwin. Charlie and Charlie, Miss Jane Alsop and Miss Sally Alsop.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Dickens smiled.

“Hmm,” Darwin reached out and ran his finger down the black mark. He pulled his hand away and rubbed his fingers together. “Burnt and sticky,” Darwin observed. Darwin waved his finger in front of his face, sniffing as he did so. “Smells bitter, and almost sweet.”

Dickens leant down beside Darwin to take a look himself. “It's spirits,” Dickens said.

“I'm sorry,” Jane spoke, watching over Dickens’s shoulder, “spirits?”

“Drink,” Darwin answered Jane, “alcohol.” He turned to Dickens, “Do you have a way to test your theory?”

Dickens shrugged, and straightened, “Set it on fire. If it’s alcohol, it will burn blue.”

“Burn blue?” Jane asked, her voice puzzled. Jacob spared her a glance and noticed her eyebrows were furrowed, as though she were concentrating hard on something.

“Blue flame,” Dickens explained, “all spirits burn blue when sent aflame.”

“How do you know this?” Sally asked, coming to stand beside Jane.

“My dear,” Dickens smiled, “when one has been alive as long as I have, you learn from youthful ignorance and exuberance.”

“So we need a fire,” Darwin stood as well, “any ideas?”

“We have electric shock devices Aleck gave us,” Jacob volunteered, unsure which outcome he should hope for. If the mysterious substance burned blue he would know what it was, but at the same time if it did burn blue it was a useless clue.

Darwin nodded, “That could work.”

“Then everyone needs to step away, the range on this is wide,” Jacob said, pulling a voltage bomb from a pouch on his belt.

Darwin, Dickens, Jane, and Sally backed away while Evie stayed where she was.

“A little further,” Jacob waved his hand for the group to back away more, “Evie and I have special shoe inserts, we’ll be fine. The rest of you don't.”

Darwin, Dickens, Jane, and Sally backed away even further, leaving a wide gap between themselves and the Frye twins.

“Here goes,” Jacob activated the voltage bomb, listening to the high pitched whine as the bomb activated, then threw it atop the dark stain. The bomb went off, sending electricity arcing through the air and across the ground, a blinding blue in the evening twilight. The dark stain on the street burst into flame, burning a dull dark blue.

“It does burn blue,” Sally spoke aloud, voice full of wonder.

“It’s just alcohol then,” Jacob slumped, feeling the hope he had been clinging to die, “our hope for a lead was the dried remains of a pub drink. We have nothing.”

“Afraid so,” Darwin agreed.

“Maybe not,” Jane stepped forward carefully, leery of where electricity had been shooting a moment before. “I know of another girl who was also attacked by Spring Heeled Jack. She claimed he shot blue flames from his mouth. The Met dismissed her as hysterical, but now I'm not so sure.”

Jacob whirled to face Jane. “Do you know where she lives?” His vehemence seemed to take her by surprise as she stared at him wide eyed.

“I do,” Jane nodded after a moment, “she doesn't live too far from here.”

“Then let’s go,” Jacob enthused.

“Jacob, it’s too late to be making social calls,” Evie pointed out.

Jacob fought the urge to roll his eyes. Did it truly matter? They never conformed to societal expectations as it were.

Jane shook her head, “The sun has not yet set entirely, and I know she will not mind. She's a friend of mine.”

“We can take our carriage,” Sally added.

“Shall we, then?” Dickens asked, looking around at the gathered group.

Evie shrugged, “Might as well.”

Sally and Jane sat up front while the rest piled themselves into the back. The carriage wasn’t quite big enough for three full grown men, and one woman, so there was a lot of knee bumping and foot stepping.

“This ‘Spring Heeled Jack’ is quite perplexing,” Darwin spoke at length after apologizing to Jacob for stepping on his toes. “Where did he come from?”

“The newspapers touted him as being a demon from the Underworld,” Dicken’s answered. “He appeared a few years ago. He would cause trouble and then vanish into the night. After reports of him kept popping up the Met and the mayor decided to hunt Spring Heeled Jack down. The trouble was he had no consistency, leaving the Met with no way of predicting his next move. The Met was at a loss and not too much later all reports of him ceased as quickly as they appeared. Whoever, or whatever, Spring Heeled Jack was vanished. A few months ago reports began surfacing of the maniacal creature returning to once again terrorize London. I sent Jacob and Evie after him hoping they would catch him, or at least chase him out of town. At the time it seemed we were successful, as all reports of him once again ceased, but it seems he has returned. What befuddles me is him kidnapping a person before supposedly killing them. He has never done such a thing before, why start now?”

“Could he have recognized Sergeant Abberline as a policeman?” Evie asked, crossing her arms across her chest. “Maybe he didn't want someone who could possibly arrest him running free?”

“It is possible,” Dickens answered, tugging on his beard, “it would make sense when whoever Spring Heeled Jack is saw who he attacked he panicked, leading him to be irrational.”

“Do you think Sergeant Abberline could be dead?” Evie asked quietly a few moments later. Jacob felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest. Freddy couldn’t be dead; Jacob wouldn’t even entertain the thought.

“I highly doubt it,” Dickens answered, “while people have died from the aftermath of Spring Heeled Jack before he has never outright killed someone.”

“We’re here,” Jane called as the carriage slowed to a stop.

Jacob opened his door wide and stepped into the street with Evie following behind. They both rounded the carriage to see a squat brown house sitting in the shadow of the train flyover. A dim light shone through the small front windows and from beneath the crack of the skinny front door. Weeds grew around the yard and the remains of a gate left to rot lay scattered around the edges. A small crooked chimney sat upon the roof, threatening to tip and crush whoever stood beneath it when it finally fell. A train roared past, rattling the windows of the house so badly Jacob could see the glass trembling within its frame.

“Miss Alsop,” Darwin waved Jane toward the dirt path leading up to the front door, “if you wouldn’t mind leading the way.”

“Of course,” Jane headed up the path while everyone else fell into line behind her.

“We’re leaving money for them,” Jacob hissed to Evie who nodded in agreement. While neither twin carried much on their person, they could afford to leave what little money they had on them behind. Their safe on the train was plenty full and, from the looks of the home, this family could use whatever money Jacob and Evie could give.

Jane knocked on the front door and stood before it patiently until a young woman not much older than Jane answered. “Lucy,” Jane greeted, “I apologize for the late visit but I’m afraid it’s rather urgent.”

“Of course,” Lucy answered, stepping aside to open the door wider, “come on in.”

“I have guests with me,” Jane warned as she stepped across the threshold.

“They are all wel…..come,” Lucy trailed off, eyes going wide as Charles Darwin stepped into her home, followed by Charles Dickens. Jacob entered last behind Evie, shutting the door behind him.

“Ch-Ch-Charles Darwin,” Lucy stuttered, “and Ch-Charles Dickens,” Lucy whirled to look at Jane. “What is this?”

“I apologize for our intrusion,” Darwin removed his hat, holding it against his chest as he spoke, “but we must speak with you about a troubling matter.”

Lucy looked back and forth between Darwin and Dickens before seeming to recompose herself. “Where are my manners? Of course, come in, come in. Please sit down.”

The room was sparsely decorated, a worn settee sat before a cold fireplace and a small wooden table with three chairs sat in the far corner of the room near a little alcove Jacob couldn’t see into, but hoped was the kitchen.

Lucy’s face slowly flushed red, “I apologize,” she spoke, flustered, “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“It is quite alright,” Dickens assured her. “Do you live here by yourself?”

Lucy shook her head, “No, my sister lives with me.”

“Family?” Darwin pressed.

Lucy shook her head again, “Just my sister. Our father died a few months ago and my mother passed soon after my sister was born.”

“I am sorry for your loss then,” Dickens said.

Jacob and Evie exchanged a look. Forget leaving what money they had with them, Jacob was going to make a special trip to bring the poor girl the whole train safe.

“Where are my manners,” Jane spoke after a moment. “Everyone this is Miss Lucy Scales. Lucy this is Charles Darwin and Charles Dickens, you already know my sister Sally, and over there are Jacob and Evie Frye.”

“Pleasure to meet you all,” Lucy’s grin was bright despite the unorthodox social call. Jacob doubted the girl received much company. “What do you need to discuss with me?”

“Spring Heeled Jack,” Jane answered.

“Oh,” Lucy’s grin vanished.

Jane took a seat on the settee and pulled Lucy to sit beside her. Sally squished herself on the other side of Lucy. Three was a tight squeeze for the settee, but the girls managed to do it. “I was attacked too, Lucy,” Jane said softly, “just yesterday evening.”

Lucy’s eyes went wide and she threw her arms around Jane, looking as though she may cry. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Lucy spoke into Jane’s shoulder.

“We need your help, Lucy.” Jane said, “Spring Heeled Jack has kidnapped someone we care about and we need to find him. Could you tell us anything that may give us something to work with?”

Lucy pulled her head away from Jane’s shoulder, a few escaped tears clinging to her face. “I unfortunately don't know much. My sister and I were walking home when I noticed a man in an alley watching us,” Lucy turned to look at Charlie and Charlie who had moved closer to hear; Jacob and Evie hung back, lingering near the door. "As we got closer the man jumped from the alley. He was wearing tight white pants and a finely stitched black shirt. He had a cape of some sort wrapped around his shoulders that spread behind him like wings of a bat as he jumped at us. He spat blue fire in my face and if my sister hadn't pulled me aside I would have been seriously injured. After that he didn’t run, but jumped away. He moved in such a way I have never seen before, scaling up walls and jumping across the roofs. We reported it to the police and returned home after being told our description was too vague to find suspects.” Lucy sniffed and wiped her tears away.

“We were told the same,” Jane told Lucy; Sally nodded in agreement.

“Another dead end then,” Jacob sighed, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. Evie elbowed him in the side, but it didn’t seem as if anyone else had heard him.

Darwin hummed while tapping on the top of the hat still held against his chest. “The police are not an option to us, so we need to look at this from a different angle.”

“What are you thinking?” Dickens asked.

“What if we’ve been going about this the wrong way?” Darwin asked, seeming to be thinking aloud to himself. “We’ve been chasing Spring Heeled Jack, but what if we could get Spring Heeled Jack to chase us?”

Jacob exchanged a confused look with Evie. What did Charlie mean have Spring Heeled Jack chase them? They stood and watched Darwin tap on his hat, brilliant mind obviously spinning.

“We need to draw him out. Bring him somewhere Jacob and Evie have the element of surprise on their side,” Darwin continued. “But how to do we do it?”

“By putting the one thing no man can stand having tainted on the line,” Dickens suggested, seeming to understand where Darwin’s thoughts were headed, “his pride.”

“How do we wound the pride of a man who attacks women under the cover of night?” Jacob asked, still not sure what the two men were thinking, but willing to play along all the same. “Seems as though he destroys his own pride through his actions.”

“We could denounce him,” Lucy suggested in a soft voice, “but I doubt such a thing would lure him out.”

“If it was spread around enough it would,” Evie’s back straightened and Jacob could see her mind at work. “We can spread rumors, maybe post vague articles in the newspapers. Any content related to Spring Heeled Jack would be published immediately.”

“Threaten the reputation,” Jacob continued where Evie left off, catching on to what she was thinking. “Make it seem as though former victims are no longer afraid of a creature who takes pride in causing fear.”

“Spread rumors at the pubs of who the previous victims making such bold statements are,” Evie continued.

“And then send said victims out into the night with a rooftop escort.” Jacob finished.

“These things take time, though,” Sally pointed out, “does Sergeant Abberline have the time it would take for this to work?”

Jacob clenched his fist. Freddy damn well better have enough time.

“If we get started tonight we may even be able to carry out the plan tomorrow evening,” Evie said. “If victims of Spring Heeled Jack were truly coming forward, they would not wait until it was convenient for Spring Heeled Jack before doing so. Jacob, Mr. Dickens and Mr. Darwin can return to the pubs and spread rumors throughout the night. I can reach out to a few acquaintances who can help, and by the end of tomorrow evening all of London will know.”

“But, for us to continue with this plan,” Jacob interrupted, “we need your permission. You two are the ones who will inevitably be walking down the street to lure Spring Heeled Jack out.”

“You will not be harmed, I give you my word,” Evie hastened to add. “He will be too busy with us to bother with you.”

“Sergeant Abberline said something similar before he disappeared,” Sally muttered.

Jacob swallowed hard. He didn’t need to know that.

“If it means helping I will do it,” Jane said, a confidence in her voice Jacob could respect.

“So will I,” Lucy agreed, her quiet voice not nearly as confident as Jane’s.

“Thank you,” Jacob said, feeling the beginnings of a smile. Finally, he had something to work with. Something he could do.

“Let’s get busy shall we? We have plans to make,” Dickens smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Chapter 2.
> 
>  
> 
> Fun Fact: Jane Alsop and Lucy Scales were reported victims of Spring Heeled Jack in 1838. The stories they tell are almost identical to the published reports with only a few minor changes.
> 
>  
> 
> Constructive Criticism always welcomed.


	3. You Are Not Wrong, Who Deem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frederick finds himself in an unfortunate situation with the most unlikely of help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long gap between updates. The end of the semester is always the worst. Here is Chapter Three of 'All That We See or Seem'.  
> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Chapter 3: You Are Not Wrong, Who Deem 

  

Frederick groaned and flexed his neck side to side as awareness slowly returned. A burning pain was searing across his eyes and nose, leaving the skin feeling hot and tight. His entire body ached and he noticed he was lying on a hard surface that was digging into his spine. The memory of bright blue flames flashed through his mind and Frederick sat up with a gasp, slamming his head unexpectedly into something solid above him.

“Ouch, fuck,” Frederick hissed, clutching his throbbing forehead. He blinked open his eyes and the burning pain turned into a white hot iron pressed against his skin. Gritting his teeth Frederick forced himself to look around and saw nothing but darkness. He closed his eyes again, hoping to relieve some of the pain opening them had caused. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. An awful smell permeated the air and Frederick took a moment to wonder if he’d been left in the rot of the sewers.

Carefully Frederick extended his hand above him, waiting in tense anticipation for the moment his fingertips found the unforgiving surface his head had already met. A rough bumpy texture brushed against Frederick’s fingertips. “Wood?” Frederick spoke aloud puzzled. His fingertips followed sideways along the wooden surface until his fingertips met a seam and the wood continued downwards until there was another seam against the piece Frederick was lying on. Panic rose in Frederick’s chest as he reached out with his other hand and repeated the same motions. He followed the top piece of wood until he found a seam, and another wall of wood descended down until it met the piece of wood he was laying on. Stretching out a foot told him there was another piece of wood below his feet, and an extended hand above his head found the last piece. He was in a box. He was in a dark box. Frederick pushed against the lid of the box hoping it would move, but it didn't.

Icy, soul-freezing panic flooded Frederick’s mind. He was trapped in a box. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Even with his eyes closed Frederick felt the world sway. Nausea clawed at his throat, and his chest heaved as the desperate need to escape made his skin feel too tight. He needed to get out. HE NEEDED TO GET OUT!

“Help,” Frederick cried, “is anyone there?” He pushed against the the top but still the lid refused to move. His heart picked up speed, thumping so hard in his chest his entire body thrummed with the beat. “Can someone help me?” Frederick called again, praying someone would hear him and let him out.

Silence answered him.

Frederick pressed against the top as hard as he could, straining his arms until they ached, wondering, hoping, he could force open whatever held the box closed. Nothing happened. Frederick released the lid with a huff. He shook his tired arms out as best he could, his elbows, wrists, and knuckles scraping against the sides of the wooden crate. Tears welled in his eyes as panic, fear, and desperation began to consume his every thought. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t stay trapped here, he couldn’t. The horrifying thought of being buried alive crossed his mind. This box may very well be his coffin.

Frederick pressed against the lid of his coffin and again nothing happened. “Fuck,” Frederick hissed, feeling tears slide across his cheeks and drip into his muttonchops.

“Try again, mate,” a soft male voice called.

Frederick sat up startled and cracked his head against the lid of his potential coffin. “God dammit,” Frederick cursed, holding his throbbing forehead. He hadn't thought anyone was out there.

There was a muffled snort from the voice outside the box, “That wasn’ smart.”

“I gathered,” Frederick snapped; anger, fear, and pain mixing to form a toxic mood.

“Try again, you’ve almost got it free,” The voice said.

“Can you help me?” Frederick asked, rubbing at his forehead and swiping away the stray tears still clinging to his cheeks. He didn’t understand why whoever was out there couldn't open the damn box already.

“No can do, mate. You’ll have to do this on your own.”

“Fine,” Frederick braced his palms flat against the lid and once more shoved with all his strength. There was an awful wrenching popping noise and with a final cracking snap the top flew free, landing somewhere in the dark with an echoing thud.

“Thank you,” Frederick said as he sat up without injury, even though the other man hadn’t done anything to help.

“No problem,” the other man replied.

Frederick opened his eyes with a groan of pain and saw nothing but more darkness. “Why is it so dark?” He asked, closing his eyes. No point in causing himself pain by keeping them open when he couldn’t see anything anyway.

“You’re in the sewers,” the man answered, “not much light down here.”

Frederick sighed again, already feeling exhaustion creeping into his bones. At least that explained the smell. “Why am I in the sewers?” He muttered more to himself than anything, but the other man answered.

“I couldn’t tell ya. I heard yellin’ and followed the noise to you.”

Frederick rolled his neck, feeling the skin around his eyes and nose sting and burn as the skin pulled. He was in the sewers, with no idea how he’d gotten there, speaking to a man whose name he didn't even know. At least that last one was easy enough to find out. “What’s your name?” Frederick asked.

“Edward Kenway,” the man, Edward, responded, “yours?”

“Sergeant Frederick Abberline,” Frederick answered.

“An officer, huh? Ain’t exactly the best place for you down here. A gang has recently taken over the sewers, call themselves Blighters.”

Frederick grit his teeth in frustration. Of course there were Blights down here. The Rooks had been gaining more and more territory across London, leaving the Blighters with very few places left to hide. He would have to be very careful finding his way out.

For now though, he needed to get out of this wooden coffin. Reaching out with his fingers Frederick found the edge of the crate. Lifting his foot, Frederick scraped his boot along the wooden side until it too found the edge and hung suspended over the side of the crate. Throwing his leg over, Frederick rolled himself over the side, tipping the crate over in the process, and hitting the ground with a hard jolt.

“Ouch,” Frederick muttered

He heard Edward snigger.

Frederick pushed himself to his feet. “Any idea -”

“Put the lid back on,” Edward interrupted with a hiss, “quick.”

“What? Why?” Frederick faced the direction Edward’s voice was coming from and tried opening his eyes despite the searing pain doing so entailed, but once again saw nothing but darkness.

“Someone’s coming,” Edward explained.

“Blighters?”

“Let’s assume they are.”

Frederick took a step away as he realized he knew nothing of Edward nor Edward’s allegiances. “Wait,” Frederick said, “how do I know you’re not a Blighter?”

“I would have killed you already,” Edward pointed out. “You need to hide.”

“I’m not getting back in that crate,” Frederick declared, finally hearing the voices Edward had picked up on.

“Then hide behind it,” Edward sounded exasperated, “it's a big crate, you won't be seen. First you need to put the top back on.”

“Why?”

“We don't need whoever's coming to know you’re awake. Best let them think you’re still in there.”

Smart idea. And as an Officer of the Met Frederick was mildly embarrassed he hadn't thought of it. Reaching out Frederick found the edge of the crate and pulled it upright. Following along the edge of the crate, Frederick walked to where he was almost certain the top had landed. His foot found it and sent it skittering across the ground with a scratching noise Frederick really hoped the approaching Blighters hadn't heard. Following the lid Frederick grabbed it and heaved it back atop the crate. He pushed and pulled the lid around, growing more and more frustrated as the approaching voices grew louder and louder. Finally the lid slide into place. With the lid secure Frederick dropped to his stomach behind the crate, making himself as small as he could since he couldn’t see to know if he was sticking out from behind the crate or not. A solid surface pressed against Frederick’s spine and for a moment Frederick thought Edward was hiding behind the create as well, but a quick searching hand behind him found it was the wall. He was stuck between the crate and the wall.

“Are you sure you put him down this way?” A male voice, accented and posh, asked.

“I’m positive,” a second, deeper, voice answered. “We paid the gang at the front to keep an eye out for him, remember. Why should we dirty our hands with killing an Officer of the Met if we can have the gangs do it for us?”

“You’re certain he’s a cop?” the first voice asked.

“Positive,” the second voice answered, “I followed those women to the Lambeth Outpost and he was accompanying them when they left. He’s a bobbie.”

The footsteps stopped, and Frederick held his breath.

“See, the lid isn’t even open,” the second voice said, “nothing to worry about.”

“You didn’t seal it shut, did you?” the first voice asked, sounding surprisingly concerned all things considered, “I don’t want him to be trapped.”

“It opens,” the second voice sounded exasperated, but Frederick noticed he didn't deny sealing the crate shut.

“If you say so,” the first voice didn’t sound so sure.

“Coming down here was pointless,” the second voice sighed, “I told you there was no reason to concern yourself. I should be home preparing for this evening.”

“How can I not concern myself?” The first voice asked, frustration beginning to bleed through. “The entire Met is out looking for this man, and rumor has it the Rooks are out looking too. Both leaders of the Rooks have been seen conquering Blighter Territory all morning, only to disappear so the police can search it for him. And what do you mean this evening?”

Frederick couldn't help smiling, a faint flutter of hope dancing in his chest, Jacob and Evie knew he was missing.

“Why would the Rooks care about a bobbie? You’re giving an inconvenient coincidence too much credit, and didn't you hear? A few former victims are coming forward claiming they know who I am. While I doubt they have anything the Met can use, I don’t need word of my identity getting out. I’m going to pay them a little visit and remind them of what I can do.”

“I want no part of it,” the first voice insisted, “I’ve had enough of these schemes and will have no part in anymore. People have died, and now an Officer of the Met is in the sewers with gang members paid to prevent him from leaving. I will do no more.”

The sound of footsteps echoed through the sewers and Frederick hoped the two men were walking away.

“Steady yourself,” the second voice said, “this is the final time.”

“How do you know who to visit?” The first first man asked.

“A few plied lips at select pubs gave me names readily enough,” the second man replied.

Frederick could hear the first man reply to his friend, but echoing in the sewers made whatever was said indecipherable.

“They’re gone,” Edward spoke in Frederick’s ear.

“Jesus,” Frederick cursed startled, “don't sneak up on a man in the dark. And how can you even see?”

“I’ve been down here awhile,” Edward answered, “must have gotten used to the dark.”

Frederick sighed and reached up and finding the edge of the crate he used it to pull himslef to his feet. “According to those men, the Blighters at the exits have been paid to prevent me from leaving. Why would those people be so desperate to kill one man?”

“They looked rich, wealthy. They must think their reputation is worth more than your life,” Edward said, sounding bitter. “It would not be the first time those with money considered themselves above the rest.”

“Welcome to the current state of London,” Frederick said wryly. “Now how do we get out of here when all those we would come across don't want us to leave?”

“With as many entrances and exits as there are they can’t all be blocked. I say walk until you find one that isn’t guarded,” Edward suggested.

“I would if I could see,” Frederick said, “It’s so dark down here I can’t see a thing.”

Edward was quiet for a long moment. “No worries, mate, I’ve always appreciated a good challenge. You can just follow me then, Freddy.”

“Sergeant Abberline,” Frederick corrected.

“Freddy,” Edward repeated and Frederick knew the other man was grinning.

“It’s like arguing with Jacob,” Frederick sighed, running a hand across his face and immediately regretting it when the skin around his nose and eyes flared painfully.

“Jacob?” Edward asked.

“Jacob Frye,” Frederick answered, figuring Jacob’s name was safe enough to be connected to a Sergeant. “He’s a friend.”

“Frye,” Edward seemed to be mulling the name over if his tone of voice was any indication. “That name is familiar. Any relation to a Miss Frye?”

“He has a sister named Evie,” Frederick answered warily, wondering if this man was one of the people Jacob and Evie had warned him to be careful of. What were they called? It was something to do with a King Arthur story. Knights of the Round Table? Knights Templar? Something along those lines.

“Hmm,” Edward hummed, “nevermind. Let’s move before anyone else comes.”

“Lead the way then,” Frederick gave a mock bow in the direction of Edward’s voice then stood still, listening for the sounds of footsteps to follow but didn’t hear anything. “Edward?”

“Yeah?” Edward’s voice sounded a distance away.

“Could you give me something to follow?” Frederick braced against the pain he knew would come and opened his eyes, but still saw only darkness.

“Get out from behind the crate then walk straight for now,” Edward said, “you can use the wall as a guide.”

“Couldn’t you make sound when you walk?” Frederick asked, carefully moving out from behind the crate and into what felt like open air.

“No,” he heard Edward laugh, “I haven’t made sound when I walked for awhile now.”

“Any particular reason why?” Frederick asked, reaching out to find the wall of the sewer. He shuddered in revulsion. The wall was moist.

“Survival tactic,” Edward said after a moment. “Let’s get moving.”

They moved slowly. Frederick clinging to the wall and Edward occasionally calling out changes in direction. Every now and then Frederick would call Edward’s name and Edward would respond or sometimes Edward would randomly supply some tidbit about himself to let Frederick know he was still there.

Through this method Frederick learned Edward had a son named Haytham and a daughter named Jennifer. He learned Edward’s first wife, Caroline, passed while Edward was away on business, and Edward had married Haytham’s mother later in life. Frederick in return told Edward about being an Officer of the Met, and how he’d lost his wife to tuberculosis. Mostly though, they traveled in silence. They didn’t need to be overheard by Blighters. Frederick would open his eyes occasionally, always hoping he would be able to see something, even if it was just his hand in front of his face. Everytime he was met with darkness. A black shroud so deep it was impossible to see anything through. A burgeoning fear began taking shape in the back of Frederick’s mind. The searing blue fire had struck him in the eyes. It was possible the fire had done more damage than merely burning the skin.

A few times Edward would hiss for Frederick to hide, something that was easier said than done when the person who’s supposed to be hiding can’t see where to hide or who they’re hiding from. Stupid darkness and Frederick’s inability to see a thing. Edward would give him a few quick directions and Frederick would hide behind a few well-placed crates, or duck down another tunnel of the sewers and stay out of sight until Edward told him it was safe to come out. A few times, as Frederick stood pressed tightly against the sewer wall or crouched behind well placed barrels, he would open his eyes when he heard Blighters passing, assuming the Blighters must have some form of light to see by. Whenever he would try to open his eyes though, outside of searing pain, he would still only see darkness and his fear would grow.

“Have we passed any light sources yet?” Frederick asked after being told it was safe to emerge from his hiding spot yet again.

“Only one,” Edward answered after a moment, “and it was very dim.”

That answer didn’t comfort Frederick as much as he hoped it would. “How much further?” he asked, not wanting to think about potential blindness while he was still trapped in the sewers.

“Not much further. I’m taking you somewhere you’ll be able to lay low for a while,” Edward said.

Frederick knew the Blighters would eventually realize he had, for all intents and purposes, escaped. Eventually those paid to prevent him from leaving would grow bored of waiting and go looking only to  find the crate he’d been trapped in empty. After that it would be an all-out hunt to find him. Hopefully wherever Edward was taking him was well concealed and would give him a chance to figure out a way out despite not being able to see.

“Up ahead there is a loose stone in the archway,” Edward spoke a few stumbling feet later, “I need you to find the loose stone and push it in.”

“Why?” Frederick asked warily. The idea sounded like something from a bad Penny Dreadful mystery.

“It opens a doorway to a secret passage,” Edward answered, “a man who used to live near here had it installed as a safety measure. He had quite a few enemies.”

“And how did you find it?” Frederick asked, beginning to feel nervous again. Why would Edward know such a thing unless he was either the man hiding or one of said enemies?

“Accident,” Edward said, “but regardless of how I discovered it, it will give you a place to lay low for a while. Follow the wall of the sewer until you feel an archway and in the archway itself is a loose stone. Press the loose stone.”

Frederick followed the wet sewer wall until his felt the outcropping of the archway. Carefully he ran his hand along the bumps and ridges of the archway, feeling for a loose stone.

“You're on the wrong side,” Edward said after a moment and Frederick bit back a sigh of frustration.

“Could have told me that earlier,” Frederick muttered. Keeping one hand on the archway Frederick stood sideways and extended his arm until his other hand touched the other side of the archway. Moving to the other side of the sewer Frederick once again ran his hands over the stones, swallowing down rising bile when his hand brush a wet sticky goop. After a few long minutes Frederick’s fingers caught on a design. Running his fingers over it Frederick felt three sharp tips.  A triangle? Why would someone carve a triangle on a stone in a sewer unless it was to hid the entrance to a secret passage? Hoping his assumptions were correct Frederick pressed against the stone, which gave beneath his fingers and sunk into the wall.

A loud rumble shook the sewer followed by the ear splitting scratch of stone scraping against stone.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Frederick heard a voice call.

“Quick,” Edward hissed.

Frederick opened his eyes again but still saw only darkness. “Are there no lights in this tunnel? I still can't see a thing.”

Edward was quiet for a long few moments. “It doesn't matter. The tunnel is just to your left. There are stairs at the bottom.”

Using the wall as his guide Frederick carefully maneuvered around the archway and slid his hand along the wall until the wall vanished. Turning to face what he hoped was the tunnel entrance, Frederick slid his foot forward until his boot thumped against a stair. Using this method Frederick climbed the stairs.

“I'm going to investigate that noise,” a Blighter called.

Frederick moved faster.

“Last stair,” Edward said, “use the inside wall as your guide, you're going to make a left.”

Frederick reached his hand out to the nearest wall.

“Other wall,” Edward corrected.

“There's a staircase,” a Blighter called, his voice bouncing off the stones, “c’mon.”

Frederick crossed to the other wall and continued straight until the wall disappeared from beneath his fingers. He turned and followed the wall.

The sound of running feet thundered down the tunnel and Frederick moved as fast as he dared. With his sight Frederick may have stood a chance, without it he was helpless.

“You're there,” Edward hissed. “Hurry and shut the door.”

“How do I do that when I can't see?” Frederick asked as he stretched his arms out and swung them around, hoping he would find a door he could shut.

“Not that easy. It's a draw door attached to a ship’s wheel. You have to turn the wheel to shut the door.”

“Who the hell designed that?” Frederick asked in disbelief, feeling the pressure grow as the footsteps grew louder.

“A brilliant man, that's who. And it's to the side of you,” Edward said, “to the left.”

Arms stretched out before him Frederick moved carefully  one step at a time, stretching his foot in front of him to make sure nothing was there. Eventually his foot hit something that moved, and Frederick waved his hands around until a smooth wooden spoke was in his grasp.

“Turn it,” Edward said and Frederick did so, turning it as fast as he could. The horrible scratching of stone on stone returned, and Frederick could just hear the Blighters yelling.

“The exit’s closing, quick block it open.”

“With what?”

“I don't know, use your body.”

The wheel stopped turning, but Frederick didn't let go. He stood leaning his weight on the wheel for a few long moments, heart racing as he tried to catch his breath. Bloody hell he could sleep for a week.

“It's closed,” Edward said after seeming to give Frederick a minute. “The men who followed you are trapped.”

“Trapped?” Frederick asked as he pushed himself from the wheel.

“The wheel opens two door: the one in front of you and the one leading to the main sewer. When one shuts the other shuts, and when one opens the other opens. Since you closed the door the ones who followed you are trapped until someone opens the doors again.”

“Okay,” Frederick sighed, not wanting to question the logic of whoever decided connecting a door to an old ship's wheel was a good idea. Frederick leaned against the wall and slid down until h hit the floor. “Where am I?”

“A secret room,” Edward said, “you’ll be safe here, for a little while at least.”

A secret room? How could anyone find him in a secret room? “Does anyone know about this secret room?”

“A few people do, one of them being Miss Frye.” Edward answered.

“So I'm stuck waiting for Jacob or Evie to find me,” Frederick muttered bitterly. He hated feeling helpless.

“There is another way out, but I wouldn’t take that route either. Could be more deadly.”Edward supplied unhelpfully.

“How do you know all of this? Who are you?”

“I already told you, mate, Edward Kenway.”

Frederick was quiet. His thought from earlier, that Edward could be one of the people Jacob and Evie had warned him about returned. This man seemed to know about London’s underground, something Jacob and Evie prided themselves on. Or maybe Edward could be someone like Evie and Jacob, an assassin. But Henry and Evie had both told him there were only three assassins in London: Jacob, Evie, and Henry. Surly if more arrived they would have told him, especially as their police contact. They would have wanted his protection extended to the newcomer and he would have done it too. All Jacob would have had to do was bat his eyes and Freddy would have folded like a wet newspaper.

“Who are you?” Frederick asked, but he received no answer. “Edward?”

“Can you do me a favor?” Edward asked. “When you find your friends, the Fryes, can you ask them what happened to the owner of this house?”

“What house? What owner?”

“Miss Frye will know. The owner of this house died over a hundred years ago, and I’ve always wondered hoe.”

“Ask them yourself,”

Edward chuckled, “They won't answer me, but they will answer you.”

“Why wouldn’t they answer you?”

“They don’t know me,” and Frederick pictured Edward shrugging, “why would they answer me?”

Frederick rolled his eyes. “Sure, I’ll ask when I see Evie or Jacob next. Probably Evie.”

“Thanks, mate.” Edward sounded delighted and Frederick smiled despite himself.

Relaxed against the wall as he was, exhaustion settled heavier and heavier in his bones. Despite the uncomfortable stone floor Frederick felt ready to sleep. He'd slept in worse places after all. He knew he was safe; a wall separated him from the Blighters and all he had left to do now was wait. A fuzzy awareness tickled the back of his mind, the abstract sense of knowing he was falling asleep but was unable to do anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always constructive criticism is welcome! Reviews are always welcome as well.

**Author's Note:**

> End Chapter 1


End file.
